In Absentia
by wynne88
Summary: Hermione Granger has been missing for the better part of a decade, and what a tangled web she and Lucius Malfoy must unravel with the help of Severus Snape upon her return. HG/LM Pairing.
1. Chapter 1

It had been an uneventful decade, Severus Snape, _Headmaster_, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, rhumed on his afternoon jaunt through Diagon Alley. It hadn't started out that way, what with the almost dying and the spying and the nearly dying again, but everything ended up in a neat little package after all. If someone had told him that he wouldn't wind up six feet under after everything was done, he'd have had them committed to St. Mungo's mental ward, _post haste_.

He hadn't landed in prison either. _That, _he determined, was a bloody miracle. Against all odds, he'd been cleared of any wrongdoing in the death of the crusty old bast- er, Albus. Unfortunately, he owed profuse thanks to none other than Lucius Malfoy. The pretentious bugger had been a spy all along (which he knew, but that's not exactly the point) and revealed himself in order to save Severus.

Malfoy Senior waltzed into 12 Grimmauld Place of an evening, like he owned it, sniffing haughtily at the dust and decay. He bypassed the complex wards and headed straight for Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt. In his carefully manicured fingers, he clutched a sealed missive from the late, great, and not so dearly departed Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

The parchment – authenticated by none other than the Granger Know-it-All – declared Snape's irrefutable innocence. It detailed the Oath that he'd been forced to take by the late Headmaster, and released him of any culpability in the old codger's death.

The informative little note also outlined Malfoy's treachery (where the Dark Lord was concerned, at least) and included a summary of the blasted Prophecy that got them all in the mess to begin with. He vaguely recalled the bushy haired chit snarling something under her breath about how the old bastard should have told everyone his master plan to being with. At the time, he'd assumed she was referring to Lucius, but now, he wasn't so sure.

Granger was the first to welcome Snape back into the fold. He, for whatever it was worth, had the niggling suspicion that she knew a hell of a lot more about _things_ than he gave her credit for. He made it his personal mission to find out precisely what those _things_ were. It wouldn't have surprised him to learn that she didn't trust the former Headmaster – no one with any sense ought to have done anyway.

Most surprisingly of all, Granger accepted Lucius into her graces as if he'd never called her _mudblood scum. _He'd been invited to take tea in the library, along with Severus, Lupin and the shaggy mutt, and that was the end of that.

She insisted, much to the chagrin of Weasley (Ronald Bilius, to be specific, but the whole lot of them, if you were being very honest) and the Potter buffoon, that both Snape and Malfoy had only been carrying out the task they were assigned. She insisted that they had no choice but to play their parts as Dumbledore designed them. The boys didn't agree, and she'd hexed them both stupid, snapping that eventually they'd learn she was _always_ right.

Snape couldn't help but have a good hearty laugh at that one. If he was playing a part, it fit incredibly well with his dislike of humans in general, and his utter disdain for anything remotely Potterific. He also added - silently - that if Malfoy didn't have at least a few long winded lectures that lauded the sanctity of blood purity, he would eat his own shoe. He did not bother preparing recipes that made leather boot more appetizing.

So they went, in the days leading up the not so epic Final Battle. He and Hermione (not Granger, any more), who were getting along a bit better as of late, brewed potions and tended wounds from skirmishes alongside Lucius. The Weasley Boy and Potter did whatever it was that useless manchildren did, Lupin and Black shagged like rabid bunnies (who were they fooling) and everyone else did his or her own duty. For the most part.

He'd been forced out of spying, which worked out rather well, in his opinion. His role in Dumblefuck's death ingratiated him enough with the Dark Lord that he was sent into "hiding."

Thank Merlin.

There was only so much of Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov that one could take without Avada-ing himself. He'd happily taken his leave and retreated to the relative safety of the Secret-Kept 12 Grimmauld Place, leaving Lucius in play as the Order's primary spy.

Malfoy divided his time between his own Manor in Wiltshire and Grimmauld in London. As the Dark Lord's right hand man, and most trusted advisor, he was given bit of leeway in his comings and goings. He spent the majority of his days holed up in the library.

Severus didn't like _that_ one bit. Research, his left nut. It did not escape his attention that whenever the Malfoy scion was _en residence_, Hermione left most of the brewing to him.

He'd walked in on more than a few screaming matches between the two of them. It surprised him that they never escalated to crossed wands. His Golden girl needed a bit of relief, and he didn't begrudge her the pleasure she seemed to gain from arguing with the aristocrat. She always returned to the lab more cheerful than she'd been when she left, and it made brewing with her that much more interesting.

It wasn't until the Trio left for Dumbledore's last mission – a ridiculous Horcrux hunt - that things went pear shaped.

They'd been kidnapped. _It bloody well figured._ Potter and Weasley managed to escape with the help of that demented house elf, Dibby or Dabby or whatever the fuck it's name was, but that left Hermione in the clutches of the Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor. It was up to Lucius, accomplished Double Agent still firmly ensconced in the Inner Circle, to ride to her rescue.

Over a week later, Lucius returned to the dilapidated brownstone with the young witch cradled in his arms. She was severely battered, Severus could tell, and startled easily. He was sure she'd been tortured, but he couldn't get close enough to her to determine the extent of the damage. The wounds he _could_ see were in various stages of healing. She slept for another week afterwards, with Lucius sitting sentinel at her bedside.

Exhaustion was evident in the older Malfoy, and Severus caught him raiding the potions stores more than once. Warning the man of the dangers of prolonged use of certain potions had earned him a snarl and a threat at wand-point.

When finally they emerged, it looked as if Lucius had put Hermione back together well enough. No one was telling the details of her captivity, or of his daring recovery. It wasn't for lack of probing on the part of Potter and the Weasley family.

Tact was not something the Gryffindors situated in the Black residence possessed. Lucius, to his credit, did not actually kill or curse any of them for asking, though he itched for his wand each time. Instead, in a show of cold and vicious anger, he declared that If Molly _really _wanted to know about Hermione's ordeal, he would gladly show her first hand _exactly_ what occurred.

Remarkably, no one asked again after his outburst, at least not within his earshot – and he was always close by.

In fact, Lucius rarely left the witch's side, not even as she slept. Much to the Weasley harridan's outrage, the pair could frequently be found napping on the tatty chesterfield in the library, Lucius curled protectively around her small form.

What was upsetting to him, though, were the times when Hermione would burst into tears unexpectedly. The crying jags were always preceded by a wild look in her amber eyes and she would usually reach for her wand defensively. The first time Potter and Weasley attempted to calm her, she hexed both boys soundly enough to incapacitate them. Severus immediately summoned Lucius to bring her back from the brink. After that, he never left her alone, not even for a few minutes, unless it was absolutely necessary.

When she had her meltdowns, he would place one large hand on her shoulder, brush her curls tenderly away from her neck and whisper against the shell of her ear. Sometimes she would calm immediately. Other times, he would escort her to their joint chambers. Hours later, she'd emerge quieter, more serene.

Something, Severus Snape knew, had changed. Before he could put his finger on what _precisely _that was, everything was over.

The War was won, Snakeface was defeated, he was a free man, Potty lived, and Hermione Granger disappeared.

Completely.

It was if she'd dropped off the face of the planet they called home, and Severus really couldn't blame her. She had changed, more than any of them. While the Dynamic Duo of Dunderheads took to the streets with their victory over the Dark Lord, she slipped quietly away, leaving behind her Order of Merlin, First Class, and a closet full of school clothes.

He'd turned over very moldy rocks looking for his little swot, and Black and Lupin stopped shagging long enough to go on their own search. All of their hunting was to no avail, and they returned to England bearing no fruit. It was determined, finally, that if she wanted to be found, they'd have found her, and that as long as there was no ransom, she was probably off having a breather.

Lucius also vanished, but he really _had_ forseen that. Narcissa was dead (thank Merlin), and he could finally begin to rebuild his empire. It was no surprise, really, that the Malfoy patriarch went on his merry way. He'd been waiting on someone to dispatch the vicious bitch since Abraxas betrothed him to her. No one had ever liked Narcissa Black, not really, so it was only a matter of time before she was seen to.

She was as horrible as Bellatrix, if only slightly less psychotic. What she lacked in madness, however, she made up for in meanness. He really hoped Lucius thanked Rodolphus Lestrange properly for killing the cunt, before returning the favor. Severus killed Dolph during the Final Battle, shortly after Lucius used brute strength to subdue and strangle Bellatrix. He'd lived for twenty-six minutes without his wife and Severus was certain they were the best twenty-six minutes of his life.

In the ensuing ten, nearly eleven, years, Severus had heard very little from his old friend. Draco had undoubtedly followed his Father to places unknown, but sometimes returned home to England. It was on those few and far-between occasions that Severus would meet Draco for drinks and receive word regarding Lucius and his wellbeing. The Malfoy heir was for once silent about his father, something he had never bothered to be in the past.

So, it was to his great surprise, that whilst billowing purposefully down the footpath in Diagon Alley, he caught the familiar glint of platinum blonde hair against expensive silk robes. The muted charcoal color, Severus, remembered, was one Lucius favored well. Being the accomplished spy that he was, Snape had no recourse but to gather his cloak about himself and surreptitiously follow.

His old friend made several stops. Slug and Jiggers' Apothecary was the first, where he paid for a mysterious package. The items had unfortunately been wrapped by the time Severus found the right vantage point to see into the shop. Next, Lucius strode into Twilfit and Tattings, tailors to refined Wizards since 1506, where he spoke with Twilfit himself. Not the same Twilfit from 1506, mind, but his great grandson at least three or four times removed. He made an appointment, Severus lipread, for the coming Thursday.

Lucius' next stop was Flourish and Blotts, where he retrieved yet another wrapped package. This one cost him several hundred galleons, and Severus couldn't help but wonder what new editions the Malfoy library would hold come evening.

The two, hunter and prey, spy and target, continued on this way for much of the afternoon. Finally, mercifully, for Severus was growing tired of the mundanity of the shopping trip, Lucius caught the Floo in the Three Broomsticks back to Malfoy Manor.

Severus would not be Severus if he hadn't followed. He waited a just over a half hour, for propriety's sake, and then he was off.

The Floo brought him directly into Lucius Malfoy's study. What he found nearly drove him to the heart attack he'd been anticipating for years.

Hermione _fucking_ Granger was sitting atop Lucius' massive desk, leaning over _the_ Malfoy ledger as if she owned it. She was dragging the tip of one perfect little finger across a line, pointing something out to Lucius and he couldn't help but -


	2. Chapter 2

"Fuck me_," _he cursed, staggering toward the chaise.

Neither Hermione nor Lucius made any effort to stand.

Lucius' lip curled up at the corners in what anyone who knew him well would recognize as amusement. "Eloquent as ever, Severus. Do have a seat, before you succumb to shock."

He turned back to Hermione, who had only just finished her examination of the item in question. When she looked up, it was into the quicksilver gaze of the man seated in the throne-like chair behind the antique desk. "I told you he'd follow."

Lucius rolled his eyes and kissed her palm. "_Pet_, he's my oldest and dearest friend. If I hadn't wanted him to join us, I would have lost him while he was trailing me in Diagon Alley. Indulge me."

Hermione slid off the desk with a fluidity that made the act nearly erotic. She nodded deferentially at Lucius before turning to Snape. "Tea, Headmaster, or would you prefer brandy?"

"Tea will be just fine."

"_Otis,_" she called. Shortly an elf, that Snape recognized as Lucius' personal one, appeared.

He made a little bow to Hermione. "Mistress, how may I serve you?"

"The Headmaster requires tea. The same blend I prefer, if memory serves. And bring some of Millie's delicious tarts – the raspberry ones, please. Thank you."

The diminutive elf popped away with a snap of his gray-green fingers, and Hermione gestured to the still unoccupied brocade chaise. "Please sit. Otis is quite prompt, and I'm positive you'll find Millie's tarts to your taste."

Lucius snorted inelegantly, and shook out his mane of platinum hair. He made for the chaise and sprawled across it in a manner not at all befitting his status. "You're going to make him think you've had the tea and tarts poisoned."

She looked absolutely scandalized. "I would never – the outrage! Take it back, right now!" She stamped her tiny little foot and crossed her arms, looking like a pouting teen, much to the delight of the other individuals in the room.

He snickered softly, and tugged her into his lap. He turned her face so that she met his eyes, and for a brief moment, Severus was sure a thought passed between them. Hermione blushed prettily and dropped her gaze, while the lips of his comrade curved into a pleased smile. "I'll do no such thing, pet. Sev, it's good to see you. How have you been keeping?"

"Rather well, yourself?" Severus took the proffered seat just beside them. He could have sat down in the chair opposite, but this was where he and Lucius had always sat to make their grand plans, sharing a brandy and more.

"Oh," he smirked, "I've been up to my usual standards. Imagine my surprise earlier today, whilst running a few errands in Diagon Alley, that I discovered I had attracted the most clandestine of attentions. I thought for a moment that I'd gone round the bend, but was finally able to determine that I was not in fact mad, but being followed. I caught the reflection of your most singular robes twice:" he paused for dramatic effect (a holdover from his Death Eater days, Snape reckoned, "once against the golden statue in Gringotts," he finally continued, "and again in the mirrored windows of Morgana's Day Spa for Witches." He accepted a cup of tea from Hermione and raised one eyebrow in Severus' general direction. "You've grown careless in age, my friend."

Severus, too, received a cup from Hermione, and he lifted it slightly. "I must admit that I was not making the best effort to remain concealed. I, too, was taken aback when I discovered your presence in the Alley. I've not seen you with my own eyes in years. It has been just as long that our Miss Granger has been away. I had thought it coincidence, initially, but nigh on eleven years have passed, and I like to think that with increased age comes increased wisdom." He gave the woman seated between them a steady look.

Hermione's tea sloshed against the sides of her porcelain cup, and she carefully replaced it on the silver tray at her side. The slight rattle of cup on platter was the only sign of her nerves, and Lucius covered her hand with his own.

"_Pet,_" he breathed, one hand on her shoulder, "it's alright."

He'd used the same voice when training horses as a boy, Severus recalled. He spent many a summer with the Malfoys in his youth, and remembered well the days and nights they'd bedded down in the stables while Lucius was breaking a new pony. Severus recalled quite clearly that Lucius handled her similarly upon her rescue and subsequent return to Grimmauld Place.

"Where have you been, Hermione?" Severus asked, as carefully as he could.

She chewed at her bottom lip, worrying it red. "I'm sorry, Severus. I – I couldn't stay. Not after everything. I didn't tell you, because I was afraid you'd try to put a stop to it, tell me I shouldn't. Only I couldn't, you understand? The others would have gotten involved, and it – I -" she trailed off, choking on her own words.

She was near tears, Lucius could see them gathering against her lashes, and he shushed her gently. "Hermione has asked very little of me over the years, so when she requested that I not tell anyone of her whereabouts, I could not refuse. We've travelled some, but a great deal of our time has been spent here, in the Manor, or another one of the Malfoy homes."

The Headmaster sputtered with indignation and vulgarities. His wand hand itched so fiercely that he was tempted to hex the living daylights out of both of them. Of all the nerve - "You mean to say that you've been here all this time? I can't believe you, both of you, hiding away like fucking criminals! I spent years searching for you, you insolent little-" Severus abruptly ceased his bellowing. He realized his mistake as soon as he'd raised his voice, because Hermione curled closer to Lucius and clutched at the lapels of his charcoal robe.

"Miss Granger," He reached for her, if only to offer a handkerchief, but she shied away, clutching Lucius for dear life. He shot a nasty glare at the man. "What have you done to her? She's like a child, cowering against a nurse."

Ignoring Severus entirely, Lucius petted her hair, running his fingers through the mass of honey colored curls. "Hush, now. You must forgive him, and me too, for putting you in this position. Severus means no harm. He worried for you. He's not angry with you, pet_, _but me. You've done nothing wrong."

She nodded, still clinging tightly to him. "I know," she sniffled, "it's a bit difficult reigning in my emotions._"_

He pressed his forehead to hers, looked into her extraordinarily expressive eyes, and smiled. With a kiss to her cheek, he held out one hand, towards the desk. "_Accio_ Hermione's wand."

She danced from his lap and caught her wand in midair, twirling it between her petite fingers. The change in her behavior was immediately evident to Severus. Where she'd once been quiet, she was now_ so_ utterly confident that it made his toes curl. He could only recall one other witch walking with such purpose and dark grace, and she thankfully happened to be dead. Her wand, on the other hand, was very much intact, and clutched in the fingers of none other than Miss Granger, who was advancing on their position. A shower of golden sparks poured from the end of her wand, and she made them sparkle in intricate patterns before extinguishing them with a flick.

She returned to her seat on Lucius' lap, and whispered something to him that made him grin. "I apologize, Severus. Your arrival caught me by surprise. Even so long after my abduction, I have a few flashbacks. They do not occur often, but tend to be worse when I'm emotionally compromised. You understand, don't you?"

When he finally spoke, his voice was raspier than she'd ever heard. "Forgive me for being so callous, Miss Granger." He cleared his throat. "Your ordeal at the hands of the Death Eaters will not be forgotten by me again." He of all people could understand what it was like to be tortured for hours on end. The only difference was that he'd gone back for more. Time and time again.

She considered him carefully before nodding. "I suppose you won't forget, not you, anyway."

_It hadn't been a dark and stormy night. It hadn't even really been night at that point, she remembered, but much closer to dawn when Severus Snape finally returned to Hogwarts. She'd been in her sixth year, but extensive use of a Time Turner meant that she was already past the age of majority. As such, she was given special dispensation from Dumbledore and McGonagall to conduct her private research after hours._

_Had Sybill Trelawney known the circumstances of their chance meeting, she'd have probably spouted some nonsense about the stars aligning and fate having a hand in her daring rescue. Lucky for everyone involved, she hadn't been told that Hermione quite literally stumbled across Snape's bloodied and broken form on her return to Gryffindor Tower. It was her quick thinking (and a particularly handy beaded bag with extending charms) that saved the Potion Master's life._

_After giving him the requisite doses of blood replenishing potion and mending the many cuts and bruises and broken bones, she conjured a stretcher and transported him to Madam Pomfrey. It was only after she'd ensured his survival that she remembered to contact the Headmaster._

_"He's sworn an Oath," the old wizard admitted to Hermione in the wee hours while they waited for Severus to wake. "At some point, he will either complete his promise or succumb to the power of the Oath. Neither option bodes well for him, I'm afraid."_

_For once, Hermione Granger didn't incessantly ask questions. Instead, she steeled her reserve and stared down the twinkly eyed old coot. "You put him in this position. You made him spy as some ridiculous form of redemption. You are entirely responsible for the life of that man. You. Not a cocked up Oath, not the Dark Lord. You're dying. Anyone can see it if they look hard enough to get past the glamours. When did the Vitale Potion stop working?"_

_Albus simply glared._

_"That's what I thought," she snorted. "Release him from his Oath. After that, you're going to make damn sure that he's protected when he kills you. I want assurances on parchment – protected against interference or manipulation, and I want your memories. You'll give them to me and to the other spy you have in the Dark Lord's camp-"_

_He wasn't quick enough to school his surprise, and instead of attempting yet another lie, he sighed his assent. "How did you know?"_

_"You were a Slytherin, Headmaster, and a better strategist than than to put all of your hopes on the shoulders of one Wizard. See to his safety, and I won't go to the Prophet with evidence of your shite. You have until breakfast."_

_Wisely, he agreed, but not before offering one parting jibe. "I had not thought that you would be one to lower yourself to something as plebeian as blackmail, Miss Granger."_

_She flashed a feral smile at Dumbledore. "Breakfast comes soon, Headmaster. I'd get to work if I were you."_

She shook off the cobwebs left in the wake of her memories, and settled closer to Lucius. Both wizards were watching her will ill-concealed curiosity. "Now, _Severus Snape_, do tell us what brings you here. There must be something else, aside from catching sight of our wily friend in Diagon Alley."

He chuckled warmly. "My initial thought was to confront Lucius and demand he assist me in renewing the search for you. As I see that's wholly unnecessary, it's the second Friday of the month. Order dinner at Headquarters. I'm sure both of you would cause quite the stir if you arrived after such a lengthy hiatus."


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: Sorry for the delay in posting. I wasn't happy with the breakdown on this chapter, and spent a bit of time re-working it to suit me. Most of the story is complete, but some tweaks are necessary. As always, the characters and places etc., are property of J.K. Rowling, et. al., I've only borrowed them to play. _

Hermione perked up at the idea of inciting a ruckus and turned in Lucius' lap, so that she was nearly straddling him. It kept his hand from sliding further underneath her dress and up her thigh, and by the looks of it, he'd been intent on his destination. Lucius could pout like a third-year 'Puff when it suited him.

Severus watched as she bowed her head beautifully, facing Lucius. "He's right, you know."

The eldest Malfoy considered this for a moment before nodding in the affirmative. "If you're certain that this is what you truly wish," he sighed, as if he were only humoring her fondest desire. He ran his fingers over her necklace and placed a kiss against her otherwise bare throat.

When the moment passed, Lucius sat back against the chaise and raised one manicured eyebrow. "Are you suitably attired, or will we have to wait while you primp?"

She glanced down at the green silk dress hugging her curves in all the right places, without being overtly scandalous. Severus was sure it had cost Lucius a small fortune. "Do you approve?"

"Mm," he intoned. "I selected it, did I not?"

"Of course. It's lovely. Thank you for choosing so well." She blushed again, just a tinge of pink to her cheeks.

As an afterthought, she transfigured one of Lucius' spare quills into a delicate hair comb and pulled back a section of her lush ringlets. The rest, she charmed into an elaborate up-do. She turned, so that Lucius could see the entire style, and smiled sweetly when he nodded his head.

"Ready, pet_?"_

"Yes, Sir,_" _she confirmed quietly.

They apparated just outside the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, and the Headmaster didn't bother with knocking. The complicated wards leftover from the war were still in place, and someone would have been alerted to their arrival. As luck would have it, they were met by none other than the Man-Who-Wouldn't-Die. When he realized exactly who was standing in the entryway of his home, his mouth dropped open comically, and Severus was positive that he'd stopped breathing.

"If this is what I looked like when I emerged from the floo, expect to be Oblivated. _Soon,_" Snape hissed low enough for only his companions to hear. When it looked as if Potter might finally pass out from lack of oxygen, he snarled sent a light stunner in the man's direction. "Breathe, you cretin."

It was a shame that he came round so quickly. "M-M-'Mione, is that y-you?" he stuttered. "Blimey, where in Merlin's name have you been?"

Hermione pursed her lips, annoyance flaring at hearing the boys' old nickname for her.

When he made to hug her, she dodged him, and stood as close to Lucius as she could. One arm curled around her waist, his fingers splayed over her belly, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I've been traveling, Harry. You must have looked _awfully_ hard for me. How are you?"

Harry had never been any good at recognizing sarcasm, no matter how thinly-veiled it might be. It came as no surprise that he continued to blather on, despite having no one's attention. Maybe he'd taken one too many curses to the head during the Final Battle.

Harry continued, blissfully ignorant, "...and James'll be at Hogwarts next fall, Lily's nine. Albus is only seven, so it'll be a while yet for him, but he's ever so chuffed about going to Platform 9 and Three Quarters with James." It would figure that he'd named one of his spawn after the old geezer.

Lucius thought he'd read somewhere about the latest of the Potter-brat births Oh, _right_ – it had been several years ago, and he'd called the boy Albus _Severus _after the two greatest men he'd known. He'd bet a bottle of Ogden's that Severus was mortified.

"Charming," Hermione drawled, sounding so much like Lucius that Severus had to do a double take. "And what of their _mother?"_

His whole face lit up like Christmas morning. "She's back on the roster for the Holyhead Harpies this season. It's fantastic."

"I'm sure, Harry, that sounds absolutely wonderful. Do show us in, won't you? Standing in the foyer is a bit rude, and I'd like to say hello to everyone else."

"Yeah, of course." He didn't move. "Gods, 'Mione, you're beautiful," he leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, and this time she couldn't avoid it.

He lingered far longer than was considered socially acceptable. Harry pulled away and stammered when he caught Lucius' silver-gray eyes boring holes through his skin, and led the way toward the kitchen.

Growing up in the Wizarding World had never been perfect, but it was home. She loved Hogwarts fiercely, the true home of her youth, but musty old Grimmauld Place took second, beating out the ramshackle hustle and bustle of the Burrow.

The memories, both good and bad, assailed her, and Lucius edged closer, turned her around to face him. "_Pet,_" he crooned, "if you're uncomfortable, we will immediately see ourselves out."

"No," she sighed, "just memories here. Loads of memories. Some of them are wonderful, like being a family – and some of them are not so good." She looked pointedly at the spot where the up-and-coming Auror, Nymphadora Tonks, bled to death in their arms.

He tipped her chin up with one long finger and met her eyes. "Let me see."

It only took a nod from her, and he was sinking into those honey-colored depths with a whispered incantation.

Her memories of the event were as crisp and clear as if it happened yesterday. He watched as they worked together in a frenzy trying to save the clutzy witch, employing both magical and muggle methods to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping chest wound she'd received in a skirmish with Death Eaters. Tonks had just enough strength left in her to apparate back to Headquarters – but not enough to live.

The Healers from St. Mungo's assured them both later that there was nothing that even they could have done to save the vibrant young woman's life. From Lucius' delicate efforts to mend her arteries with magic and Hermione working just as carefully with a muggle surgical needle and thread, they'd done everything correctly.

If only Snape had been around, or if she'd begun work on those blood replenishing potions earlier, she berated herself. Tonks might still have been alive.

She spent a few quiet breaths centering herself, focusing on the resolute man holding on to her, and the one at her back. Despite having not seen Severus for the better part of ten years, he'd always looked out for her best interests. He'd protected them, and even allowed her extra-curricular potions lessons when she expressed her desire to learn from him.

He'd been welcoming in his tutelage, passing on his own techniques so that she might hone her skills. She always did have a knack for potions, Severus reminded her once, when he decided to be generous with his compliments. It was no small wonder, he continued, to not only complete her own potion superbly, but to fix Potter's and Weasley's so that they were passing _and_ keep Longbottom's from exploding and killing the lot of them.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her line of thought and narrowed his eyes at _his _witch. He sunk deeper into her memories of Hogwarts for the first time. He'd never really been interested in her total recall of History of Magic, the old dust bag who taught it, or any of her other experiences at school. It was probably close to the same curriculum as he was subjected to, anyway, and certainly didn't care to relive that.

He plundered through her mind stealthily, but she was aware of his presence.

Merely a teenager's fantasy, he noted, pushing his jealousy away, which had turned into mutual respect. They'd brewed together as emergency medics, both before the fighting began and in triage after the Final Battle. Severus had finally decided to treat her as a capable witch by that time, and she was the only other person he'd trust to brew the complex potions they so desperately needed.

He felt like a fool for missing it, after all the occasions where the dark-haired man wouldn't just _shut up _about blasted Granger. He praised her constantly when they would retire for evening drinks. She was brilliant today, he'd remark, about her skills in brewing a difficult restorative draught or whatever painfully intricate task he'd assigned. Lucius, to all passersby, looked bored out of his wits with the never ending adulations of one Hermione Granger.

Contrary to all outward appearances, he was _very_ interested in the luscious witchling. She'd challenged him from the start. He, having never dallied with a witch who was not of similar breeding and station, was unsure of what to do with her brass. The women he was used to were easy to woo, he decided, with their courting rituals, expensive (and frankly hideous) trinkets, hand kissing and precious little conversation. Hermione was not easy by any stretch of his admittedly vivid imagination.

She had wanted to speak to him, with him. To listen to his viewpoints on an array of subjects, including blood status – and share her own. She'd expected conversation and delivered conversation in return. He found her to be thrilling, well-spoken, and completely beautiful.

They spent hours together, learning one another through their sometimes opposing stances on controversial matters. She gave as good as she got, and when she was convinced that she was right, she would rail for hours. Of course, so would he.

He'd never met a woman who could match him in the wits department. Pureblooded women were not bred to be vivacious and intelligent. They were made to be pretty, delicate and absurdly stupid. At least he thought so, after listening to Patrice Parkinson drone on for _far_ too long about whether or not she should have chosen 'perfect peach' or 'blushing blossom' nail lacquer.

Lucius was no slouch when it came to design. He'd redecorated the entire Manor himself, mostly because he couldn't trust Narcissa to do it properly. He had an eye for color, but damn it all, he could not see one whit of difference between the shades she made such a show of displaying for everyone in attendance at 'Cissa's thrice-damned luncheon, at least twice.

It made his head ache just to think of those women, and it would probably annoy his most favorite bluestocking until she began hexing people at random. No, a ladies luncheon was not the place for he or Hermione_. _Thank Merlin she never showed an interest in such banal activities.

He was smitten with her the first time he noticed her. At fifteen (older, he realized later, which made him feel less like a lech) she'd fought more fiercely than his errant fellows in the Department of Mysteries, and had better aim too. He had a few scars to prove it. At the time, she hadn't known he was an Order spy.

She was breathtaking then, and more so now. He adored her from that moment forward, from a respectable distance of course, until he was able to well and truly seal his claim on her.

Lucius remembered seeing she and Severus bent over cauldrons scattered all over the place, not at all like the meticulous habits of his long-time friend – or his witch, for that matter. She kept her lab neat as a pin. He pushed the memory to her, sharing it. And she'd shared another one with him. He'd been tireless in his attempts to save the seriously wounded, having completed all of the courses to become a Level Seven Trauma Healer. If it were possible to fall in love a little more after she'd already given her heart to Lucius, Hermione would say that it was because of his unwavering focus and skill, his healing abilities, that saved just as many Order members as Ministry Aurors.

She inhaled sharply, at the memories of Lucius in fantastically fitting muggle-style jeans and a crisp blue button-up shirt with its sleeves rolled up his perfect arms to his elbows. Even the blood stains down his front added a sexy sort of appeal. His hair had been pulled back into a tight ponytail, not his customary braid or free flowing locks. It was hot as hell, she thought, shifting on her feet and squeezing her thighs close together.

Lucius leaned close to her ear. "None of that now."

When she finally choked out a strangled breath, her cheeks were stained crimson. "We should-"

"Quite," he whispered.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: I'm still getting the hang of formatting. _

When the small group finally edged into the packed to bursting dining room, they were met with an overbearing and shocked silence. Hermione's wand immediately dropped from it's sleeve sheath into her hand, and she prepared herself for attack. To her credit, only Lucius and Severus noticed her defensive stance. Lucius increased the pressure of his hand on the small of her back, warm and reassuring. She was safe.

The quiet didn't last long. Molly Weasley stood at the forefront of her redhead brigade (all in attendance except Ron, who had been called out to work) with her hands on her hips. She leveled what she probably thought was a furious glare at Hermione. "Young lady, you have quite a bit to explain," she railed. "Of all the thoughtless-"

"Thoughtless?" Remus Lupin's melodic voice carried over Molly's, and he stood from his place at the table. "No, I'd imagine a great deal of thought went into her flight. Perhaps it is all of us who should be questioned. Harry and Ron were sent into hiding immediately after the fall, and by the time things settled down, the lot of you assumed Hermione had returned to the Muggle world." There was a note of disappointment evident in the werewolf's tone. "If I recall, Molly, it was you who made that suggestion initially."

"But-"

Lupin smiled ruefully. "Even Sirius and I gave up eventually, once we'd confirmed that she was still alive and in no danger."

"I needed time," Hermione offered carefully. "It was too much."

Some of them seemed to understand, Bill in particular, and George too, after the loss of his twin. At some point, each person in the room had probably needed to take time of their own to move past the horrors of war.

"Where were you for the first year?" It was Sirius who spoke, his hand on his partner's shoulder. "We confirmed that you'd been seen in Ukraine, alive, and in good health, and that's when we stopped looking."

She nodded. "Slovakia. Just over the border, for nearly two years."

For once, the spartan explanation of her whereabouts seemed to settle the room – but she wouldn't have put it past Severus to have laced the carafe of pumpkin juice with a calming draught. In fact, she sniffed delicately at the glass that Molly had thrust in her direction, it smelled distinctly of chamomile.

Snape's eyes sparked with mischief. While everyone was focused on Hermione, he'd employed wandless magic to empty several phials of the potent potion into pitcher. A subtle parching charm on Lucius' part, and everyone suddenly had a thirst for the chilled juice.

She'd have to separate the two of them before the evening was up, or else they'd get into more trouble than the whole of the Marauders.

Once everyone was sufficiently serene, they took their places around the table and Lupin and Black finally had a chance to assess the prodigal Granger.

She was a great deal different, they determined, independently. They'd compare notes later and discover that they saw the same changes in their sweet Hermione.

Sirius noticed immediately that she was nothing short of stunning, but then, he always did notice a fine looking witch. Hermione had been an attractive teenager, albeit a slip of a woman, but she'd _filled out_. She rivaled Venus, he thought blasphemously, with her generous curves and delicate feminine features.

Not a stitch of makeup was on her face, but her skin was flawless, with a natural blush staining her cheeks. As for the elegant green dress she wore, he guessed Lucius had probably hired a seamstress to create it for the way it hugged her womanly body. A thin chain with charm, of the finest quality goblin-forged platinum he'd ever seen, nestled against the indentation of her throat.

A spiral of hair escaped the comb, and that was really all it took to get Sirius started on her usually wild curls. He whined to Remus that it was positively unnatural to restrain those locks. Lupin snappishly informed him that it was called a French Twist, and that it was posh, and that he ought to shut up about it before someone heard.

Sirius groaned a little and fielded a cuff on the shoulder from his fellow Marauder.

Remus, though, was doing his best to avoid thinking about the little witch's appearance. Sure, she'd turned out beautifully, but it was the change in her attitude that intrigued him. She had mellowed, grown out of the hand waving and desire to fit in a world that was still new.

She finally settled into her skin, and _that, _Remus thought, made her all the more appealing.

On the fringes of his consciousness, Remus realized that Molly was saying something. "-ever so disappointed that he wasn't able to make it. Perhaps our Harry could call in a favor to the office and have someone else take Ron's shift?"

He snorted into his tea, and shot a quelling look at the older woman. "I hardly think that's necessary, Molly, nor is it appropriate for Harry to use his status for gain. I'm sure other arrangements can be made, at a later date."

Hermione mouthed a thank you to Remus. "He's right, Molly. Besides, I'm sure Ron is in the middle of-" she trailed off, not really sure what it was that the ginger beast actually _did. _

Remus quickly hid a smile. "A high profile investigation?"

"Yes, precisely. He's a busy man. It would be a shame to interrupt his important work."

The men on either side of her shook with the effort of containing their laughter. If Ron Weasley really did anything other than bollocks up the job he'd been handed on a silver platter, they'd dance naked and sing Dumbledore's praises.

Hermione stifled a laugh and squeezed Lucius' arm playfully. "Count me in, though I'm not sure about the dancing naked bits."

There was no hope of concealing the look of disbelief that crossed Severus' face. His oldest friend was clearly sharing thoughts with the little hellcat.

"You're liable to catch flies, Headmaster," the woman in question advised.

He immediately snapped his mouth shut, and sent her what would have been a withering glare, if not for the smile in his eyes. "You'll have to tell me how the two of you managed _that._"

"_Slovakia,_" the pair chimed in unison. Their proclamation earned curious looks from Remus and Sirius, and a great deal of throat clearing from the former.

Sirius smirked lecherously. "That is interesting, indeed, kitten. Tell us all about your visit!"

"I have a particular interest in the incidence of magic in isolated populations – the remote villages of Slovakia, specifically." Ever the swot.

While she told one version of events to those eagerly listening at the table, Lucius remembered the truth of it.

After visiting Madame Ingrid, they decided there was no harm in seeking out the babička. It had taken nearly a month to locate them since the village was shrouded in cloaking magic. Once the newcomers made their intentions clear, the old women had gladly shared with Hermione and Lucius the secrets of their magic.

Midwifery, to be exact, and not a moment too soon.

Never in his years did Lucius Abraxas Malfoy imagine he'd be in the same room as a woman giving birth, let alone have a hand in delivering his _own_ children. But he had, in a one-room cottage high in the Slovakian countryside. He'd helped usher each of his youngest children into the world, and wouldn't change a thing.

The first set of twins was an easy birth. At least the babička helped that time, guiding him through the process with their wrinkled hands and gnarled fingers.

When they returned for the second round of twins, the women had informed him that he was on his own. He'd been afraid, worried that something would go wrong. It had taken Hermione, exhausted though the was, to reassure him.

_"I trust you with my life, and with theirs."_

He knew before then, of course, that she trusted him. The fact that she was willing to entrust their children's lives to him as well was his undoing.

He smiled to himself and ran his fingers over the names he'd had tattooed over the remains of the ghastly visage on his forearm.

_ Draco_

_ Helena_

_ Lysander_

_ Lucien_

_ Hera_

His children, of which there would soon be more.

Less than a year after the birth of Lucien and Hera, he returned to the same magical tattoo parlor to have yet _another_ name inscribed on his person.

He bore Hermione's name directly over his heart.

Reflexively, he brought his hand to his chest and massaged at the spot through his robes. "I own a lodge in the country near one of the villages Hermione was interested in visiting." It was only partly true. He'd built their little home with his own two hands, with the babička's permission. It was modest by a poor man's standards, but it was theirs, and it was sacred.

Haven.

"Apologies, I seem to have lost myself for a moment. What were you saying, Lupin?"

The werewolf quirked an eyebrow. "I asked how long Hermione was a guest in your lodge."

"Several times over the last decade. She is invited back by the babička regularly." 

HGLM HGLM 

When dinner ended - it seemed like a lifetime later - only a few people offered their goodbyes. Remus and Sirius engulfed her in hugs, despite scathing glares from Lucius. Harry, again, but with only a handshake under the watchful Malfoy gaze. Ginny lingered in a corner of the kitchen, but didn't come closer.

"She's having a time of it, 'Mione. I'm sorry," Harry muttered. "And not just for her. For me too. I'll have to explain sometime, maybe we could have a drink?"

Hermione found herself agreeing, despite her initial misgivings. Perhaps Harry had grown up in her absence.

Unlikely allies came in the form of Bill and Fleur Weasley.

"Mum's upset because she had it in her head about you and Ron, and never managed to let go of the idea that you were running away from the family." Bill shrugged and slung an arm around Fleur's shoulders. "I don't blame you though. Fleur and I spent a few years abroad after the end of things. Everybody else'll come round. You'll see."

When Bill moved on to say goodbye to Lucius and Severus, Fleur turned to Hermione. "I seem to remember," she began in her lightly accented voice, "that in Slovakia is a sorceress who is known for ze ancient magic, archaic binding rituals. If you are interested in such things, you might veesit her. She is called Madame Ingrid," she whispered, meeting Hermione's eyes. A wicked smile lit up Fleur's angelic face. "Unless you know of her already, hmm, 'Ermione?"

The woman was shrewd, Hermione had to give her that. "Fleur, I don't believe we ever had time to sit down and have a proper chat, you and I. Call on me at the Manor this week. We'll have tea."

"I shall, Lady Malfoy. I am honored by your invitation."

Hermione sucked in a breath and tipped her head gracefully. "It is my honor, Mrs. Weasley."

Fleur giggled and pressed a kiss to Hermione's cheek. "I won't tell until you're ready."

HGLM HGLM 

Sirius scowled at Remus when they curled up in bed after their guests were gone. "They're hiding something."

Lupin cuddled closer to him, pressed a gentle kiss against his day-old stubble and smiled tenderly down at the man who knew him best. "Perhaps I entertained that idea, Pads."

Sirius Black was silent for a few moments before he shot out of bed and began to pull on fresh clothes. "What say we go and find out a bit more about our little Hermione?"

Remus could never resist a good adventure, even when he was sure it would be fruitless – or that it might prove to be fatal. Just like their experiences in school, Sirius was typically the one who delivered such impassioned speeches about the whys and whatfors that their group forgot the part about the idea being ridiculous and usually dangerous to begin with.

With a tired sounding sigh, put on solely for the benefit of his friend/lover/brother, he slowly rose from the warm comfort of their shared bed. He dressed with his usual amount care and lack of hurry, enjoying the fact that Sirius was anxiously pacing the room waiting on him to finish sorting himself out.

"Are you bloody well done yet, Moony?" he inquired, speechifying done and devilish grin still in place.

Lupin always fell for Sirius' face – he could look so sweet and apologetic with those huge grey-blue eyes - that he had no choice to leave off his tie. "Fine then, let's go." He stopped for a moment and studied Sirius. "Where exactly are we going?"

The tattooed ex-convict flashed another version of his ne'er do well smile. "Malfoy Manor, of course. In Wiltshire. Once 'Cissa married into the family I used to be able to apparate inside, but I imagine ol' Luscious Lucius took me off the wards. We'll probably end up just outside the grounds. I could floo and you could apparate," he suggested conspiratorially.

Moony sighed. "Get on with it then. I'm knackered, and the sooner we get done with this little adventure of yours, the sooner we can get back to bed."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, flopping onto the chaise in Lucius' study. "That grated on my nerves." She began yanking at her hair, and only stopped when Lucius covered her hands with his.

"Let me." Very tenderly, he removed the charm holding her lush curls in place, and ran his fingers through the tangles. "There," he placed a kiss on the back of her neck and cuddled the witch. "Calm down, Hermione."

"I don't want to calm down, I want to obliterate something!" Her magic crackled and sparked around her petite frame. She aimed her wand at Lucius' desk and began a series of complicated movements. The antique desk, older than Abraxas' grandfather, shattered into smithereens. She hadn't said a word.

"Do you feel better now, _Mine_? Put it to rights, _immediately. _And reorganize my documents, in the same fashion as before. I will not tolerate such blatant displays of temper from you, is that clear?" His voice was light, but Severus detected an underlying firmness.

Severus watched their exchange with nothing short of amusement while Hermione effortlessly repaired the desk. She flashed an apologetic smile and began sorting out the mess of parchments. It didn't take long to get them back into order and she returned to her seat on Lucius' lap. "I'm sorry for letting my temper get the best of me."

"I'll forgive you, as long as the ledger wasn't damaged."

"That was no _confringo _I've ever seen." Or any other spell Severus recognized. In order to bypass the protections imbued by subsequent generations of the Malfoy line, she must have stripped away the enchantments – but she'd only cast one spell. Normally, curse and ward breakers worked in levels, dismantling one at a time. Hermione had done the deed in fell swoop.

"You wouldn't recognize it. It's a spell of my own creation, designed to slice through the protections on objects of great power. We kept running out of ideas to destroy those blasted Horcruxes. It became a bit of a pet project after the war. I studied under a wizard known for his familiarity with the Arts, so I picked up a few other talents. I modified the original spell to destroy the intended object. An additional rune at the end takes care of it." There was no question which _Arts _she was referring to.

"Some might consider that too Dark to ever investigate in depth." Severus was intrigued. The little witch was tapping into magic that most Spell Masters were too prudish to experiment with. Was she an Unspeakable?

He quickly dashed that idea. She hated the Ministry nearly as much as he did, or at least she used to. No, the insatiable know-it-all probably wanted to know _how _magic worked – and her search led her to the foundation on which every spell was built. It was as ancient as it was dangerous.

She shrugged. "It's my personal research, into the origins of magic." At this, Severus allowed himself to smirk, satisfied that he'd been right. "I've plenty of material at my disposal in the library, though I do need assistance when dealing with many of the volumes. They're cursed against _impurities_." Hermione frowned at the memory, keeping her eyes averted. "It was my fault. He'd warned me not to try and access the Dark texts without his permission and assistance. Suffice it to say that I should have waited. I've suffered cuts and more than a few burns."

_He, _being Lucius, was hardly satisfied with her injury inventory. The cuts and burns she referred to were curse wounds, so steeped in generations old Pureblood magic that it had taken a blood rite to reverse. "You are my most prized possession, I do not wish to see broken skin on your body unless I'm the one who caused it. Those _little wounds_ might never heal entirely."

"They won't be the first."

* * *

_They'd been taken to Malfoy Manor by Scabior and his Snatchers – hours ago. She had no idea where the boys were, as she'd been separated from them shortly after they were abducted. It seemed like an eternity of not knowing when finally the door to her spartan room creaked open. Lucius stood in the doorway, his face an impassive mask. Had to be that way, she reminded herself. He couldn't show any weakness or hesitancy, especially not for a mudblood. _

_ "Come along, Miss Granger. Mustn't keep the others waiting." He reached for her arm, and instead of jerking her forward, he ran his fingers over her silky skin. "Merlin deliver us," barely a whisper, his words leaving invisible trails on her skin. "You will survive this. I demand it." _

_ She was determined not to cry, never show how weak she really felt. He'd taught her that in the beginning, and it was a lesson she took to heart. It would serve her well this night. She jerked her head in the affirmative. _

_ Down the main staircase and through a long corridor, the silence was only interrupted by the clicking heels of his dragonhide boots. They were his favorite; she had a similar pair, only made for women. It was the first thing Scabior had taken from her, and the pristine marble floors were cold against her bare feet._

_ When they arrived in the drawing room, he shoved her roughly to the floor and made a show of scourgifying his robes to rid himself of her filth. _

_ Bellatrix's shrill laughter was the first thing to send real fear careening through her. The crazy hag stood off to the side of the drawing room, hair wilder than ever before, twirling that blasted wand like a baton. Unhinged bitch, Hermione thought, before the first curse flew. _

_ In the blink of an eye, she knew nothing but pain. _

Cruciatus.

_Bella held her under for several minutes, cackling like a madwoman while she writhed on the floor. Worse than the pain of muscles twisting in and around each other - worse than the convulsions - was the embarrassment of having lost control of her bladder. _

_ When Bella finally cancelled the curse, Hermione felt her cheeks flame, but she hadn't cried. Not yet, at least._

_ "Look, Dolph, the ickle mudblood pissed herself. Filthy whore can't hold her water. Get her on the table. We deserve to have some fun with her."_

_ McNair macgicked her onto the marble table that stood in the middle of the room. She'd noticed it when Lucius brought her in, looking so much like an altar. He secured her wrists and ankles with heavy manacles that were spelled shut, leaving her spread for anyone to see. _

_ McNair was the first of many that night. She caught the glint of a wand tip out of the corner of her eye, knew what was coming before it happened. When the searing flame touched her skin, she shrieked in agony. He dragged the lit wand across her stomach, a trail of ugly red blisters rising against her creamy flesh. _

_ The shakes would set it in soon. She had to do something, before he made a bigger mess of things. _

_ She met Lucius' stormy eyes across the room – communicated her message as best she could. _

I'm sorry. Bring me back.

_And then she gave herself over to them. _

For hours. _Pain, blood, that fucking possessed cunt grinding glass into her skin. The bouts of Cruciatus were so severe she was sure she'd end up in the Janus Thickney ward, mad as Frank and Alice. That sort of oblivion seemed preferable to her current predicament. _

_ They put her back together only to do it all over again. _

_ Curse, cut, burn. Ennervate. Curse. _

_ Dolohov was finishing, his little gift inching its way down her shoulder, slicing a new gash. This one wouldn't heal, never completely._

_ They called her names, insulted her parentage. She'd never be a real witch, not as long as she was full of muddy blood. Except she wasn't full of it. It pooled around her on the marble slab, streaked the floor crimson. The coppery tang of it filled her nostrils, made her sick. Again. She was surprised there was anything left to come up._

_ Ennervate. _

He_ was the last. She was on her stomach by then, and he weighed a silver knife in his palm before turning toward her. He cleaned her first, a clear canvas, he'd drawled to their audience. His warm hands, though - they told her that he cleaned her up for her own sanity. _

_ She imagined the lines he etched into her back, followed them in her mind. It was her only point of focus through the entire ordeal. With each slash, he began another healing chant, with each thrust into her weakened body, he willed as much of his strength into her as he could. _

_ "So you remember what's mine," his voice was a whisper against her abused and abraded skin. Even when he breathed the word that would singe the flesh around his monogram, he didn't raise his voice. She wouldn't last through the night unless he could finish healing her. _

* * *

She lifted her head, just enough to meet Severus' eyes. "You knew."

"That he had to take part in your torture in order to deliver you? Indeed I did."

Lucius hissed out a breath and when he spoke, his voice was harsher than she'd heard in a long time. He rarely spoke of the night they were nearly lost to him, never willing to discuss the allegiances he made to save three lives. "The atrocities I visited upon her will haunt me for eternity, and it is nothing less than I deserve."

He'd started to say more, but Hermione cut him off with a vicious slap to his cheek. "Shut up, Lucius. _Shut the fuck up." _

The Lucius Malfoy that Severus knew would have never fallen silent after such physical abuse of his person. This man was changed, and for the better. Severus struggled to hear the words Hermione was whispering against the blond's ear.

"If not for you, I'd be dead. Your children would be dead! You're the only reason we're alive." Tears streamed down her face and she gulped in as much air as she could. "If not for you," she continued, "the children growing inside me would not exist."

Severus made to get up, unused to intruding on such private moments, but Hermione's small hand on his arm stopped him. "We owe you an explanation." She scrubbed at her face with the handkerchief Severus offered. The only evidence left behind was the puffiness in her eyes.

"Old friend," Lucius began, "I should like you to meet my wife."

_Bugger. _Severus rolled his eyes. "I'd puzzled that much out for myself, you irritating ponce. She wears the Malfoy crest." He pointed at the platinum disc dangling from Hermione's necklace. Years of teaching dunderheads hadn't dulled his mind one bit, thank you very much. "And disillusioning her wedding ring only fools those who don't have enough practice looking. I want to know when."

"Before the the boys and I were taken by the Snatchers," Hermione admitted. "We weren't bound yet. That didn't happen until after the battle and after LeStrange killed Narcissa, when we left. Within two months of leaving the Order, I belonged to him. Less than a month after that, we saw Madame Ingrid."

Severus' eyes widened before he could stop them, but he quickly schooled his features into his usual expression: two parts disdain for those of inferior intellect, one part breeding. "You were sixteen."

"I was of age. The Time-Turner increased my chronological age over two years."

"He didn't take advantage of you?"

"I'm offended that you would think so little of me, Severus," Lucius chastised. "I would never have touched her otherwise. As it was, she had to initiate things."

Hermione sucked her teeth and grinned through her embarrassment. "I only opened my big mouth because I caught you staring at my arse for the third time. I was mortified that I'd actually gathered the courage required to check you on it! I may have indulged in Elven wine that evening."

He chuckled. "What was it, pet? _If you're going to keep ogling my arse, Lucius, you might as well tell me if you like it. _Merlin, I thought it was obvious that I liked it," he defended. "You have always had a fabulous arse."

"I didn't want to assume. I could have had something on my trousers."

Lucius groaned. "Whatever happened to those trashy Muggle things you used to wear? Jeans? They were so deliciously tight."

Her peals of laughter rang through the study. "Firewhiskey, gentlemen? I'll send Otis in with some. I'm going to Floo Draco and check on the little ones."

"Send them my love, pet."

When she cleared the room, Severus leveled a hard look at his long-time crony. "She is devoted to you. Are you as devoted to her?"

"I am a lucky man to have the love of such a witch. She has given me more than I could have ever imagined. I love her with all that I am."

"Just how much has she _given _you?"

Lucius rolled back his sleeve to reveal the lines of elegant script on his forearm. "My life."


	6. Chapter 6

"Poor Draco," Hermione groaned, reentering the study. "He's nearly ready to admit that he can't handle the four of them." She chanced a look at the Headmaster – pale, slack-jawed (again) – and bit her lip to contain herself. "You showed him, didn't you?"

Lucius' self-assuredness was palpable. He stretched out lazily, eyes dancing with mirth. "I am a proud Papa." He raised one eyebrow and his lips twisted into an unrepentant grin.

He was worse than the albino peacock that strutted around the Manor grounds. Hermione had dubbed the damnable bird 'Little Luc' after she caught it admiring its reflection in the gazing orb she'd installed in the garden – and the moniker stuck.

Before she could comment further, a charmed alarm of her own design sounded through the Manor, letting the occupants know that someone was attempting to access the Floo. It was followed by another, more urgent sound, alerting them that the wards surrounding the Manor had been breached.

"For Merlin's sake, are we under attack?" Hermione snapped, in an instant she was prepared.

Severus had seen the telltale signs of her body readying for battle, watched her shoulders roll back, her feet plant firmly and heard the barely there _snick _of her wand sliding into her tiny little hand. Severus had anticipated the move. After years of spying, it was as innate as breathing to him and he'd drawn his own wand the same time she'd unsheathed hers.

"_Lucius!" _Hermione shrieked, voice filled with terror and more.

He hadn't uttered a word or bothered with his wand, merely cut his hand open and smeared a rune onto her belly with his blood before Disapparating. The accompanying crack was murderously loud.

They lived for the thirst of battle.

Severus, just as Lucius would have expected, placed himself between Hermione and the hearth after she dismantled the complex wards set around the hearth. He cast an additional containment charm around her only a moment before she dropped the last ward. It wouldn't remain intact past a few curses, but it would hold long enough for them to have an idea of what they were dealing with.

When the invader stepped through the fireplace, brushing soot off of his t-shirt and coughing ash she snarled and sent a vicious hex at him. "Oh for fuck's sake! No one's attacking anything." She projected her voice using a _Sonorus_. "It's only Black."

Lucius chuckled from the front hall, loud enough that she could hear it_. _"Lupin's just gotten into the stinging hexes on the door handles. A few more seconds, _pet, _it's most entertaining." He hadn't bothered to amplify his voice and was yelling through the halls like a commoner. _My how things have changed, _thought Severus.

After his allotted time was up, Lucius reluctantly cancelled the hexes on the door and swung it open, admitting the werewolf. "Can't hurt much more than getting your paw stuck in briers, Lupin," He greeted. "Your companion is being held hostage in the library with Hermione and Sev."

Lupin, still shaking his hand, as if it would help rid him of the prickling sensation, followed behind Lucius. "Are there stinging hexes in the Floo too? He deserves it for dragging me into another one of his misadventures."

"No, but I don't doubt that she's currently giving him the tongue lashing of his lifetime."

Remus let out a dirty little chortle. "He's probably enjoying it then."

Lucius smiled broadly when they did indeed find Hermione berating Sirius. Severus stood well out of blast range with his arms crossed over his chest, enthralled with the scene. Her language was foul enough to make a beater blush.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing attempting to fucking break into a home so steeped in dark magic? Are you bloody insane, Black? I didn't realize that Bella's madness travelled through fucking bloodlines. Merlin's knickers, you stupid bastard! I ought to hex your inbred balls off. You must be a half-wit. No one else would be so fucking stupid!" She tossed another curse in his direction, one borderline dark, and shot off a second when he blocked it. "Why, in the name of Circe, did you come here?"

He flashed his usual panty-melting smile, disappointed when she didn't respond with a giggle and flirt, but rather another glare and a zap with her wand.

"We wanted to chat without the busybodies around. Thought you'd take a shot at telling the truth instead of acting like a sodding teenage girl. You didn't even act like that when you were a teenager. Can't believe you thought we'd actually believe it."

She shrugged, dropping the glare and snuggling into Lucius' arms. "No one else caught on, did they, 'cept for you and Remus?"

"I suppose not, love, but since we're here, want to give us an explanation?" Remus stared her down, scowl affixed. "I recognize your wand, Hermione. I'm surprised that it responds to – did Sirius hex you? You're bleeding." He sniffed the air for a moment, then had the decency to blush. "Apologies, I hadn't realized," he breathed, pausing for a moment. He closed his eyes and the moment stretched into several. "I can _hear _them."

Hermione brought her hand to her lips to hide her gasp. She hadn't known his senses were so heightened that he could hear the tiny hearts beating in her womb.

"You're pregnant?" Lupin asked, barely believing his own ears. He hadn't been close enough to her at Grimmauld to notice before.

Lucius let out a contented breath and covered her midsection with his large hands. It was the only answer the men really needed. She'd be giving birth to the newest set of Malfoy twins in less than five months and Lucius was ecstatic. He would soon have seven children, more than he could have ever imagined. He loved each of them dearly, especially the ones growing stronger each day, safe and sound inside Hermione.

His tiniest loves. He could feel their magic pulsing, responding to the rune he'd traced in his blood. Calling to it.

* * *

"_Mine," he growled against her shoulder. Lucius nipped at the tender skin she exposed to his ministrations. "You're mine forever, pet." He raised up on his forearms so that he could look deep into her eyes and continued to pound into her vise-like channel. _

_ She agreed, moaning breathy affirmations. "I love you."_

_ It was the first time she'd said it to him. The first time she'd admitted to herself that she well and truly loved him. She really was his. _

_ Her confession spurred him on. He thrust harder and harder, slamming his cock so deeply that he brushed against her cervix. Hermione wailed beneath him, clutching his shoulders. She dug her nails into his skin, ten tiny, red crescent moons were left in their wake._

_ He knew she was close. Lucius claimed her mouth with a rough kiss, bit her lips. She'd been a virgin. His shaft was stained with the remnants of that barrier. He knew her blood was smeared between them. It only made him more determined to claim her entirely. _

_ She would only ever be his. He told her that, in his dirtiest voice - the one that gave her gooseflesh and made her cunt clench around him. She'd cried out in pain when he first stabbed into her but had betrayed herself when she begged him never to stop. _

_ He'd laughed, assured her that he wouldn't. She could beg, he told her, plead for his mercy, but he would have her any way and as often as he wanted. _

_ Hermione arched against him, her eyes going wide. _

_ "That's it sweet," he urged. "Don't hold back."_

_ She couldn't – so close and she was afraid of... she whimpered her apologies, told him of the feeling stirring where she'd never felt it before._

_ Lucius smiled against her lips. "Shh, 'tite ange, my little angel, and let go. That feeling is what I want. Your first orgasm." Oh, how it pleased him. So many firsts and he would sample her wares far into the future. _

_ When she finally let go, he watched her shatter. Sobs wracked her body, the intensity too much for her to process. She clamped down on him tighter than he'd ever felt anything before, his dam broke. _

_ He wanted her to bear his children. Needed to watch her ripen. As he deposited his seed into her womb, he chanted in a language she didn't understand. The ancient words of power would guarantee a pregnancy. They'd been used by Pureblood families for generations, to ensure the production of an heir on the first try._

_ There was no rationalizing his need to have physical evidence of their coupling; he already had an heir. Lucius had always wanted a large family. This was the woman he would have it with. She would be heavy with his child as often as possible._

_ Hermione seemed to know what he'd done. He thought for sure she'd be angry with him, but she smiled serenely and cupped his cheek. "Thank you, Lucius."_

_ He dipped his head for another kiss before rolling away, already cognizant of the magic working inside her. "So strong. Even now, can you feel it?" He arranged her in front of him, with her back to his chest, and rested his chin on her shoulder._

_ "Lucius, I think there will be more than one."_

_ "It is a blessing indeed if the gods have seen fit to gift me with twins. Marry me, Hermione." He slipped something heavy on her left ring finger and lifted her hand so she could see. The gorgeous ring glittered in the dim candlelight, sending sparkles dancing over the walls. _

_ She worried her lip with her teeth. "You already have a wife."_

_ He tensed behind her and she knew without looking that his eyes had gone from liquid mercury to ice. "We were not bound using the old rituals. She is my wife in name only and even that time is drawing to a close. I will kill her with my own hands to have you."_

_ "I'm leaving with the boys in the morning. We've found a way to end things."_

_ The argument that ensued was explosive, but it had ended without bloodshed... and a tacit agreement between the pair. Hermione would leave Grimmauld Place in the company of the two idiots and he would continue spying. Neither was particularly happy about the outcome, least of all Lucius. _

_ "I want them born Malfoy, to a Malfoy wife," he insisted. "You have less than nine months – mark my words, little witch – I will wed you properly before they arrive."_

* * *

"Sit down, gentleman," Hermione directed, shaking herself and Lucius out of the shared memory. "I have a story to tell."


	7. Chapter 7

_Special thanks goes to my fabulous Beta, Aleisa G. :-)_

* * *

She waited until the four men were comfortable before settling in her usual spot on Lucius' lap. "I really have no idea where to start," she sighed.

"I've found that the beginning is generally best." Lucius' retort was stated softly, and despite his sincerity, Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the cliché.

"In my Sixth year, I found out about Severus' Oath." It hung in the air for a few beats, sinking in. Behind her, Lucius steadily pressed his thumbs into the tissue on either side of her spine, comforting her. He already knew, of course, but the rest of them were gobsmacked.

The wizard in question, having regained his composure, sucked in a breath and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "How?" His voice had lost all of its usual dark silkiness. Four pairs of eyes were focused completely on him, and even though he was accustomed to a classroom full of staring faces, their total concentration unnerved him.

"Blackmail usually works well for me," she sniffled haughtily, "but I didn't need to go to those lengths. In a moment of uncharacteristic weakness, the old bastard admitted to me that Severus' life hung in the balance. I'd worked out that he'd been taking the _Vitale_ potion, and that it was losing its efficacy." The Headmaster's normally twinkling blue eyes had developed a darker ring around their irises, and his nails were blackening, telltale signs that the potion no longer worked. "I could see through the Glamours he'd cast to hide his continually declining health."

Sirius raised one eyebrow. "Is that so, kitten?"

"I was already watching him closely, perhaps that's why I was able to detect them, who knows. He was weak and that made it easier. It's a wonder he didn't bring down the school," she spat, "siphoning power to keep himself alive. You all wondered why Hogwarts sustained so much damage during the Final Battle, there's your answer. She was depleted, almost entirely." Her voice had risen and had taken on a biting edge.

"_Pet, breathe," _Lucius murmured, ghosting his hands over her back. "Hermione knew that a second spy existed. She demanded that Albus provide both the unknown spy and herself with proof that Severus had been compelled with an Oath, so that he would be protected. We were given identical evidence, as such, she was able to verify my claims quickly when I arrived at Order Headquarters. I'm still unsure as to whether or not she knew that it was I."

Hermione lifted her chin just enough to brush a kiss against her husband's jaw. "I was not surprised." She knew that the second spy had to have a high status in the Inner Circle, and had whittled the list down to Lucius and Rabastan Lestrange. With Lucius' position as a school governor, he made the most sense. He could travel to and from Hogwarts under the guise of business and meet privately with the Headmaster; no one would suspect the arrogant Pureblood of defecting.

She had to work harder than usual to hide her satisfaction when it had been Malfoy, and not Lestrange, striding into 12 Grimmauld Place. He'd blown past the wards with little to no effort and promptly laid his wand on the table in front of Hermione. Disarmed and a Death Eater, in a house full of Order members.

He'd either not been afraid, or concealed it well under years of discipline.

Lupin relaxed beside Sirius, arm thrown casually over the Animagus' shoulder. "When you authenticated the letter Lucius carried, you could have told your part in all of this. Why didn't you?"

She spared a glance in Severus' direction. "Severus does not appreciate meddlesome Gryffindors, even ones who brew as meticulously as I do. I also needed to appear as normal as possible in order to keep an eye on the boys. Getting them to wait until the end of summer to go looking for the Horcruxes was difficult enough. If they'd known I harbored a secret for so long, they wouldn't have trusted me. They were wonderful boys, but woefully underprepared to fend for themselves in the wild."

"Idiot girl," sniped the tall blond stretched out behind her. "You shouldn't have gone." Over a decade later and he was still holding on to that. "I'd have locked you away after our first kiss had I known you intended to traipse through the wilderness with those two insipid little mongrels."

She was beautiful, and his, had been from the moment he first claimed her lips.

* * *

_The library was empty, thank Merlin. He reclined in the comfortable chair closest to the fire, the one she so often chose for herself. In fact, she used it so much that it was unofficially dubbed hers. She hadn't been there when he sank into the soft cushions, wearing only trousers and a loose linen shirt. She hadn't been there when he poured the first tumbler of Ogden's, or when he toed off his shoes and stockings. She hadn't been there when he picked up the forgotten book and lit his expensive French cigarette – the Muggle variety. _

_ He spent nearly an hour reading and sipping and smoking in peace. Then she danced into the library, all grace and youth. She was luminous, a side effect of the fine elven wine she'd been sipping, if the glass dangling from her fingers was any indication. It was half full, which meant she'd refilled._

_ Lucius watched her flit from shelf to shelf in those tawdry, vulgar pants that no self-respecting witch would ever wear. They were painted on, must have been, for the way they followed each curve of her thighs and glorious -_

_ "If you're going to keep ogling my arse, Lucius, you might as well tell me if you like it." She blushed as soon as the words were out, turning a flattering shade of scarlet before draining the rest of her glass in one gulp. _

_ He took a long drag off the cigarette and blew out the purple-gray smoke, regarding her. "I thought I made it clear that I liked the view, witch, otherwise I wouldn't have continued my perusal of your assets. Come here." He crooked one finger at her._

_ It was as if she'd been Imperiused, except she wanted to go to him. Six steps. Four. One. She was close enough to him, as he reclined in her chair that she could smell the luxurious masculine cologne he must have had custom made. It blended indecently well with the cigarette and the Ogden's – and left the impression of cedar, leather and parchment. And freshly mown grass. _

_ She was bloody well fucked. _

_ He quirked one annoyingly perfect eyebrow. "Crisp apples and moonlight, Hermione, with a hint of cardamom and vanilla. I believe I told you to come here." Lucius crooked that aristocratic finger again, indicating the spot just in front of him, between his spread knees._

_ Hermione did as she was instructed and maneuvered herself to stand closer. _

_ He clicked his tongue at her. "Good girl."_

_ If it were possible, he'd have sworn that she glowed brighter at his praise. "I've been here for four weeks. We've talked circles around each other for three and a half of those. It ends now, pet." He stubbed out his cigarette manually, then vanished the contents of the crystal ash tray. "You see me before you, a man, nothing more. I belong to the Dark Lord and to Dumbledore's ghost. I have vowed myself to a wife that I do not care for. What is left of me is yours."_

_ The silence stretched between them, longer, and longer still. When finally it became unbearable, mercifully Hermione dropped to her knees in front of him, wrapped her delicate hands around his leg and pressed her head to his thigh. "And would what is left of you have me?"_

_ "Oh, Merlin, yes." He scooped her up carefully, for the first time running his hands over the globes of her arse, and planted her in his lap. Lucius met her eyes, sank into their warmth, before slanting his lips across hers. Their first kiss was a bruising, brutal clash of lips and teeth and tongues. It wasn't perfect, nor was it pretty, but it was just right. _

_ They broke apart when the clock began its chime. Each time the pipes played a note, he dropped another kiss to her lips. Nine of them. _

_ She pulled away, ever so slightly, eyes alight with something he'd never seen before. "The others will up soon. After dinner drinks." Then her forehead was against his. "I'm tempted to ward the doors."_

_ He laughed, and it was full-bodied and guttural. Real. "We could cast all we want, but the house will ultimately obey its Master – and Black need only demand it to be granted entrance. Up with you, pet, or there will be questions."_

* * *

"Lysander and Helena were conceived the night before she left with Potter and Weasley. The next morning, they were gone, and I went back to the Dark Lord. I did not see Hermione again until Scabior brought her to the Manor. I believe you're all familiar with our return to Grimmauld Place."

Three heads nodded.

Hermione smiled shyly. "I must apologize for my behavior during that time. I was damaged a great deal by the trauma I experienced at the hands of the Dark Lord's loyal servants." When protests erupted, she held up one hand to silence them. "It is my prerogative to apologize. You will not hear those words from me often. Now, none of us expected things to escalate so quickly."

That much was true. Everyone anticipated that the epic showdown between good and evil (or, evil and slightly misguided, as Hermione quipped) would occur sometime toward the end or immediately following Potter's Seventh year. Voldemort stormed Hogwarts' grounds just after twilight on October 31st.

Death Eaters and their sympathizers, Aurors, Order members, students and professors met in a clash that the Wizarding world would not soon forget. Night was rapidly falling, but darkness never came. The sky wasn't brightened by stars and the moon. Instead, flashes of color from flying curses illuminated the school's grounds. Owls and cicadas were drowned out by the screams and snarls of those fighting and dying for Pureblood Ideology or the Greater Good.

Hermione fought fiercely; Lucius was proud and displeased in equal measure. She cut down swathes of Death Eaters effortlessly, making her way across Hogwarts' green to his side. None were spared.

He'd been stationed near the Whomping Willow, guarding the hidden entrance to the Shrieking Shack, and they fought back to back for what felt like hours. She knew when he caught sight of Bellatrix, followed his journey when making his way nearer to the deranged bitch became his singular aim.

He killed her, and not with his wand. She wasn't good enough to deserve a quick death. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, second in command to Lord Voldemort – and spy for the Order of The Phoenix – strangled his sister in law with his bare hands. He stared into her eyes until the little light left faded from them and she went slack beneath him. _Finally. For Hermione. _So consumed was he with his vengeance that he was only partially aware when one of Rodolphus' stray hexes put an end to Narcissa's existence.

"It was over soon after. I found the boys, helped end the Dark Lord." Hermione worried her lip with her teeth, eyes hooded. "It was easier than I expected. After all the Horcruxes were gone, all it took was an _Avada_." Far more simple than she, or anyone else could have imagined.

It was done, but there was no time for celebration. She'd been rushed back to Grimmauld with Lucius to tend the wounded. Hours turned into days with no sleep, working in close quarters to save as many lives as possible. She was adept at untangling the dark magic around curse wounds, and coupled with Lucius' healing expertise, they made an excellent team.

"We survived. After the dust settled, I realized that my place wasn't with the boys. I'd experienced much more than they ever would, looked at things differently. Understood them in different ways. There will always be Dark Magic," the words dripped off of her tongue like honey, "just as there will always be Light Magic. The line between the two, however, is not to be determined by the Ministry and Wizengamot. It is the responsibility of each individual wizard and witch to practice Magic ethically– it is their ultimate intent, their end game, which should have hand in determining their 'goodness.'"

Sirius snorted in disbelief and sat up straighter. "Hermione, that's not how it works! Dark Magic corrupts. It corrodes and eats at you, turns you. It's unnatural."

She seemed to grow taller right before their eyes, commanded their attention. "Dark Magic saved my life, Sirius Black, and it's what got you out of that blasted Veil."


End file.
